Of Elmo, Eragon, and The Nutcracker
by Miss Pookamonga
Summary: Beware of randomness! A weird, twisted parody of the Inheritance trilogy involving TMX Elmo, The Nutcracker, and Georgie Henley's Pottymouth Bucket. Read if you dare...if you give me a review, I shall ask Santa to give you a candy cane!


_Dear Readers,_

_This is my first Eragon fic. I know it will make no sense--so I am warning you now. It is strictly parody, and nothing else. Actually, the Eragon part of it doesn't come in until a little after the beginning part. But don't worry--this IS an Eragon fic--sort of...well, just read and review, okay! No flames! I got this random idea today after I read some other Eragon parodies, and I have been writing this eleven-page story since 2 or 3 in the afternoon. It's now 9:30 PM where I live. I couldn't stop writing b/c I didn't know how to end it. So please be nice. I hope this is funny. Merry Christmas and Happy Hannukah!_

_Best Regards from a Bookworm,_

_Miss Pookamonga ;-P_

_**for Verya**_

Once upon a time, there was a furry red monster toy that loved to be tickled.

Once upon a time, there was a boy named Eragon, and he lived with his dragon, Saphira.

Once upon a time, there was a fanfiction writer who was getting pretty tired of writing "once upon a time."

Once upon a time (crap, why am I writing that AGAIN?!) there lived a girl named Clara. For Christmas one year, at her family's party, her Godfather Drosselmeier gave her a beautiful wooden Nutcracker. Clara loved her Nutcracker. It was her pride and joy. And then her annoying brother Fritz had the nerve to break it.

"My Nutcracker is broken!" wailed Clara after Fritz had broken it.

"Oops," said Fritz.

"Not to fear, Clara, I shall fix it tomorrow," said Drosselmeier, wrapping a cloth around the Nutcracker's broken jaw.

"Yay!" cried Clara happily.

"Aw, darn it! I'm supposed to be making her angry! I'm a failure as a little brother!" Fritz cried as he ran away to his room.

Later on that night, Clara snuck out of her room and went downstairs to the parlor where she had left the Nutcracker in her dollhouse. She took it in her arms and cradled it. Suddenly, she heard a strange noise. She turned around and saw a furry red toy standing nearby her, smiling.

"Ooh! What a cute furry toy!" squealed Clara. She bent down and poked its stomach.

"You tickled Elmo! Aha-ha-hahaha! Aaahahaha!" The toy fell on the ground, laughing, then stood up again. "Again, again!"

Clara, meanwhile, was doubling over with giggles. "That's-so-funny!" she cried. Then she poked Elmo's foot.

"Aha-ha-hahahaha! You did it again! Ahahahahaha!" And the toy fell on the ground, laughing even harder. So did Clara.

The TMX Elmo (for that was what it was) stood up again and said, "Give Elmo a break, please!" But Clara, too amused, poked it one more time, and it went hysterical.

The toy fell on the floor, laughing harder than it had, and slapped the floor with its hand, unable to control itself. It finally stopped and stood up again.

Suddenly, the ground began to shake. The TMX Elmo toppled and fell over, erupting into another fit of giggles. "You tickled Elmo!"

Meanwhile, Clara screamed and fell on her back, clutching the Nutcracker to her chest. In front of her, the Christmas tree seemed to be growing bigger and bigger and bigger until it was absolutely enormous. That was what was causing the earthquake.

"AAH! It's the Apocalypse!" screamed Clara.

"Give Elmo a break, please!" said Elmo, who was still lying on the floor.

"Ow, lemme go!" yelled another voice. It was the Nutcracker, who had now grown to about a gazillion times its original size.

"Holy crap!" screamed Clara. She let go of the gigantic Nutcracker.

Suddenly, the earthquake stopped. Clara sat up and looked around her. The room and everything in it now looked like it belonged in a giant's house. All except for her—and Elmo, who had stopped laughing. Clara wondered why Elmo hadn't grown and the Nutcracker had.

"What's going on here?" she squeaked. Then she started crying.

"Aww, it's okay," said the Nutcracker (although I have no idea how he can speak—his jaw is broken). He put his arm around Clara. Suddenly, he grew tense.

"Hark! I hear a noise!" he whispered.

"Huh?" said Clara, looking up.

"It is the seven-headed mouse queen and her warriors! I must gather my forces!" The Nutcracker clacked his (still-broken) jaw together, causing himself an indescribable amount of pain, and immediately an army of gigantic toy soldiers marched to his side.

"Quick, hide!" he told Clara, pushing her out of his way.

"What about Elmo?" cried Clara; but it was too late, the toy soldiers had already begun marching on top of him.

"You did it again!" laughed Elmo from underneath the soldiers' feet.

Meanwhile, the mutant seven-headed mouse queen had emerged from out of nowhere with an army of oversized mice who were singing "Smoke on the Water" as their battle cry. As the music from _Rocky_ interrupted Tchaikovsky's score, the two armies charged at each other, and a great and violent battle ensued.

"Hey! What happened to my music?" yelled Tchaikovsky angrily from somewhere in the orchestra pit.

A young man in the violin section named Joshua Bell volunteered to go find the source of the _Rocky_ music and ran off with his violin.

As Joshua Bell tried finding the CD player which was blasting out the score from the _Rocky _movies, a large blue dragon broke the gigantic parlor window and flew into the room, roaring. She charged at the mice and blew a stream of fire at them, burning them all to a crisp.

"Yay, we won!" cried the soldiers.

"Hey, I was supposed to throw my shoe at the mouse queen!" cried Clara angrily. "And where's Elmo?"

Everyone ignored her though, because they all realized that the _Rocky_ music had stopped playing.

"I found it!" cried Joshua Bell from backstage.

"Aw, man, I liked that music," complained one of the soldiers.

"Aaaah, look, it's the devil!" screamed another.

"You tickled Elmo!" cried Elmo from underneath a soldier's foot.

Everyone turned around and saw what the one soldier was talking about. Where the mice had been standing, amid the smoke, stood a tall man in a black robe with long, blood-red hair and a pale face.

"I knew it! It _is_ the Apocalypse!" screamed Clara.

"What is going ON?!" cried Tchaikovsky from the orchestra pit. "And where is Josh?"

"You raise me uuuupp!" sang Josh Groban from atop the Christmas tree.

"Not you! The other Josh!" growled the angry composer.

Meanwhile, the man that looked like the devil was laughing at the Nutcracker.

"Your dragon may have destroyed the mouse army, but you cannot destroy me! HA!" He lifted up his hands. "I challenge you…to a duel!" he yelled.

"I haven't got any cards, Durza," yelled the Nutcracker, wincing in pain at his broken jaw. "Yugi stole them all."

"Oh. Well, we'll have to do this another way! _Brisingr_!" All of a sudden, blue fire shot out from Durza's hands toward the Nutcracker. The dragon growled angrily and stomped over to Durza as the Nutcracker deflected the blue fire with another spell. The dragon was about to attack Durza when an army of Urgals rushed in from nowhere and surrounded her. Distracted by them, she began attacking the creatures, leaving the Nutcracker to fight Durza on his own. It was at this point that all the soldiers screamed like little girls and ran away, abandoning their leader. Only Clara remained with Durza, the Nutcracker, the dragon, and the Urgals. But she was caught in the stampede and was unable to reach the Nutcracker to help.

"Crap," muttered the Nutcracker. "Ow! My jaw!"

Durza advanced on the Nutcracker, drawing his sword. "_Expelliarmus_!" he screamed, pointing the sword at the Nutcracker. The Nutcracker was thrown backward against the giant dollhouse and the sword flew from his hand.

"Ow," groaned the Nutcracker.

"Hey, you can't do that!" cried Clara indignantly, finally breaking free of the crowd of toy soldiers. "That spell was copyrighted by J.K. Rowling!"

Durza ignored Clara and teleported himself to where the Nutcracker was and raised his sword.

"My name is Durza. You killed my father. Prepare to die!" he growled.

"No, I didn't!" screamed the Nutcracker. "I wasn't even alive when your father was!"

Durza cackled and began to swing his sword down toward the Nutcracker when a Pointe shoe came hurtling through the air and whacked Durza in the head.

"I feel…dizzy," warbled Durza. Then he collapsed on top of the Nutcracker, dead.

"NUTCRACKER!" screamed Clara, running towards him. She pushed Durza's body away, but to her horror, the Nutcracker was no longer there.

"NOOO!" she cried, and fell on the ground, sobbing.

Meanwhile, the dragon had killed the last of the Urgals and made her way over to the sobbing Clara. Clara looked up and screamed upon seeing the dragon's head.

"Don't worry, she won't hurt you," said a calm, enchanting voice from behind her.

Clara spun around. It was…a random guy with blond hair wearing the same red and white uniform that the soldiers had been wearing.

"Who are you?" she whispered in awe. His voice was like nothing she'd ever heard before.

"I am your Nutcracker!" the boy laughed. "I am really a Dragon Rider named Eragon. The shade Durza—" here, he pointed at the dead Durza "—cast a spell on me and turned me into a Nutcracker. I was going to be burned in a bonfire for King Galbatorix's bicentennial birthday celebration, but your Godfather Drosselmeier stole me from the woodpile and took me to his toy shop. He has been waiting for the chance to give me to you, because he knew you would break the spell."

Clara's jaw dropped open.

"Oh, and this is my dragon, Saphira," finished Eragon. "May I help you up?" He offered his hand to poor Clara, who was still trying to comprehend everything while being distracted by how handsome Eragon was.

"Uhh, yeah. Wow, you're hot." Clara held out her hand and Eragon pulled her up off the ground.

"You tickled Elmo!" They all heard suddenly.

"ELMO!" squealed Clara ecstatically as she ran over to the furry red toy, which, miraculously, was still in perfect condition.

She picked up the toy and held it up. "This is Elmo," she said.

_Are you sure this girl is safe? She seems to be suffering from psychological problems_, Saphira telepathically told Eragon.

_Oh, sure, she's just a little shaken, that's all. I mean, it's a lot to deal with in one night, what she's seen_, replied Eragon. _Besides, she's cute._

_Arya's not going to like that,_ Saphira warned. Eragon ignored that comment.

"What are we going to do now?" asked Clara, looking adoringly at Eragon.

"Well, I was thinking—"

"ERAGON!" screamed a voice from behind all of them. They turned around and saw a red-haired woman dressed in a sparkly tutu standing a few feet away from them. "YOU'RE BACK!" The woman shrieked and ran over to Eragon and gave him a big bear hug, crushing her expensive custom-made tutu.

"Who's she?" asked Clara, getting a little jealous.

"Eragon! Eragon! I've missed you!" cried the woman ecstatically, pulling away from him.

"Arya! What happened to your hair?" cried Eragon. "It used to be—"

"Black, I know," finished Arya for him. "Stefan Fangmeier made me dye it. Do you like it?" she asked, patting her hair, which was twisted into a tight bun.

"Uhh, yeah, it's nice," answered Eragon. "And—wait, your ears!"

"Heh, they rounded them."

"Who's 'they' and how did they 'round' your ears?!"

"Never mind, it's a long story. Anyway, what happened to _your _hair?" Arya said.

"I've told you a million times, I _am _a natural blonde!" cried Eragon in frustration.

"Are not!" a random Inheritance fan yelled from backstage.

"Hold it!" yelled Clara angrily. "Who are you?!" she yelled at Arya, pointing her finger at her.

_Nice going, you didn't even introduce them to each other, _Saphira said sarcastically.

"Oh, stupid me, I forgot to introduce you! Arya, meet Clara. Clara, meet Arya."

"Hi," the two said in unison.

"The Sugar Plum Fairy is NOT supposed to come on until the SECOND ACT!" screamed Tchaikovsky furiously from the orchestra pit. "And there is NO DRAGON!"

Saphira growled.

"Oh, crap, I gotta go! Bye!" Arya planted a kiss on Eragon's cheek and skittered offstage on her Pointe shoes.

"SOMEBODY GET THE DRAGON OFF THE STAGE!" screamed Tchaikovsky in his thick Russian accent.

"Is she your girlfriend or something?" asked Clara.

"Who, Arya? No!" answered Eragon. "I wish she was, though."

"Oh," said Clara, sounding disappointed.

_I thought you said you thought Clara was cute,_ Saphira said, narrowing her eyes at Eragon.

_Uhh…_

Eragon didn't have time to think about that though, because his brother Murtaugh suddenly swooped down into the parlor/stage on his red dragon, Thorn.

"You!" he growled, pointing a finger at the weird guy in black, who was sitting atop Thorn.

"You!" Murtaugh growled back, returning the same gesture.

"_Who _is he?!" screamed Clara, throwing her arms around Eragon, hoping for protection.

"My traitorous brother, Murtaugh!" grumbled Eragon through clenched teeth, thrusting Clara aside.

"Ow," said Clara.

Murtaugh hopped off of Thorn. "I hate you," he said to Eragon, still pointing at him.

"You wanna start something?" Eragon retorted.

"Yeah, okay!"

"Let's go!"

Eragon and Murtaugh lunged at each other and began rolling around on the floor, fighting, while Clara began to cry uncontrollably. Saphira and Thorn just exchanged looks and raised their eyebrows at the ridiculous brawl.

_I do wish they'd end this stupid feud,_ remarked Saphira plainly to Thorn.

_Me, too. Humans can be indubitably soft-headed sometimes, _replied Thorn, shaking his head.

_Like Tom Cruise, _said Saphira.

_I was thinking more along the lines of Paris Hilton, _answered Thorn.

"That's hot," said Paris Hilton somewhere in L.A.

Meanwhile, Tchaikovsky started throwing a terrible temper tantrum. The orchestra, frustrated, decided to leave, all except for Joshua Bell, who remained, playing "Danny Boy" on his violin while Josh Groban sang it from his place on the Christmas tree.

During his temper tantrum, Tchaikovsky started cursing loudly in Russian. This alerted Georgie Henley, the young British actress who had acute hearing senses and who happened to have an English-Russian dictionary with her. She rushed to the scene, in a worse temper than Tchaikovsky.

"YOU OWE TWELVE DOLLARS TO THE POTTYMOUTH BUCKET!" screamed Georgie in a voice so loud that Tchaikovsky stopped his temper tantrum, Josh Groban stopped singing, Joshua Bell stopped playing his violin, Eragon and Murtaugh stopped fighting, and Clara ceased crying. Everyone turned to look at Georgie.

"Twelve?" Tchaikovsky asked feebly after a long moment of awkward silence.

"YES!" cried Georgie angrily.

"Uhh…I only have Russian dollars!" Tchaikovsky exclaimed as he fumbled around in his pockets.

"Well…how much is twelve British in Russian?"

"I…don't know."

After a long debate over the currency exchange rate between Britain and Russia (which involved Eragon and Murtaugh cursing, costing them each two dollars), Josh Groban unwrapped a present beneath the Christmas tree which turned out to be what had been a pocket calculator. Only now, it was as big as the bed in the dollhouse.

"Here! This'll help!" he cried.

"Not if we don't know the exchange rate!" shrieked Murtaugh angrily.

"Is it time for me to come on yet?" yelled Arya from backstage.

Joshua Bell began playing the suite from _Swan Lake_.

"Stoppit! That's the wrong ballet!" cried Tchaikovsky angrily.

Joshua stopped, looking hurt.

"Oh, heck, just give me twelve Russian!" sighed Georgie in exasperation.

Tchaikovsky produced twelve Russian dollars from his pocket and dropped them in the Pottymouth Bucket.

"Thank you," said Georgie, smiling. But her face fell when she looked up and saw Murtaugh and Eragon fighting again. "Are they_ ever_ going to stop?"

"Maybe you could yell again," Joshua Bell suggested.

"No, no, if I can get my orchestra back, perhaps we can distract them with my music!" said Tchaikovsky excitedly.

"But where'd they go?" asked Josh Groban, who was sitting on top of the Christmas tree again.

"Umm…"

Suddenly, there was a great flash of light, and the orchestra was once again sitting in their proper seats.

"YAY!" cried Tchaikovsky in joy.

Meanwhile, the parlor scene had disappeared into a cloud of mist, and snow had begun falling onto a random field.

"Quick! Start playing the Dance of the Snowflakes!" hissed Tchaikovsky at his orchestra.

As the music drifted across the snowy field, a group of ballerinas ran onstage and began dancing a beautiful adagio—well, it would have been beautiful were it not for Eragon and Murtaugh's boisterous fist-fight. As they were punching each other, Eragon swung at Murtaugh and missed, accidentally punching Clara in the nose. Clara shrieked in pain and fell on top of Saphira's foot, causing Saphira to howl and whip her tail to the side, knocking Thorn over. As Thorn began to fall to the ground, a group of terrified ballerinas screamed in horror and took off running, surprising the rest of the ballerinas and knocking them over. Thorn crashed to the ground, causing a massive earthquake of which the result was a Tsunami off the southern coast of Antarctica that swept away a dozen lost penguins and carried them back to the rest of their clan.

It took about 20 minutes for the earthquake to subside, and during this time the rest of the dancers decided to come on and continue the ballet, including Arya, who managed to do the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy around Thorn.

In the middle of the Waltz of the Flowers, the shaking finally disappeared, and suddenly, everyone heard a strange sound coming from beneath Thorn's head.

Immediately, the ballerinas stopped dancing, Tchaikovsky's orchestra stopped playing their music, and Eragon and Murtaugh stopped fighting for the second time. Thorn, disoriented, stood up.

And when everyone saw what was where his head had been, each person gasped.

"You tickled Elmo! Ahahhahahahaha!"

"ELMO!" cried Clara, running up to Elmo and picking him up, despite her bloody nose.

"It's so—_cute_," said Murtaugh in a small voice. All of a sudden, he burst into tears. And then Eragon did too.

"I'm-so-rrrrrrrr-yyyy!" wailed Murtaugh.

"Me-e-e t-t-t-too," sobbed Eragon.

The two brothers hugged each other tightly, and everyone went "awwwwwwwww", except for Tchaikovsky, who was crying behind his music stand over the fact that his ballet had been hopelessly ruined.

"This calls for a celebration!" exclaimed Josh Groban, who was now the king of the Land of Sweets. "Let's all eat candy!"

"YAY!" cried the crowd of dragons, dancers, brothers, musicians, and a girl and her TMX Elmo.

"I can't," said Georgie from the orchestra pit. "I have to go back home."

"Aww, can't you stay?" asked Murtaugh.

"No! I have to get ready! _Prince Caspian_ starts filming in less than two months!" cried Georgie worriedly, and with that, she ran off to catch the next plane back to Yorkshire.

Murtaugh shrugged and began eating a random chocolate bar. "Hey, Arya, do you know I've loved you for the longest time?"

"What?!" exclaimed Arya and Eragon in disbelief.

"Yep," said Murtaugh matter-of-factly. "Will you marry me?"

All the female dancers started crying and dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs.

"Uhh…" Arya looked at Eragon. He sighed.

"Go ahead."

"Yes!" cried Arya happily, jumping up in the air and tripping on her Pointe shoes, falling on top of Murtaugh.

"Yay," grumbled Murtaugh from beneath her.

_What about you, little one?_ asked Saphira of Eragon.

_Uhh…well…_

Eragon suddenly knelt before Clara. "Clara, who cared for me as a Nutcracker and bravely saved me from Durza—"

"Cut the crap!" yelled someone from the orchestra.

"—will you marry me?"

"Oh…oh yes!" sobbed Clara happily, throwing her arms around Eragon.

Everyone clapped loudly, and the dragons roared in excitement. Tchaikovsky, however, was still lamenting over his ruined masterpiece.

Spontaneously, the orchestra began playing "Ode to Joy" and Josh Groban proceeded to sing along with a choir of angelic voices that appeared out of nowhere. As they sang, the entire crowd indulged themselves on candy until everyone was on a dangerous sugar high, jumping up and down for no reason, singing "Make 'Em Laugh" from _Singin' in the Rain_.

And, of course, TMX Elmo's laughing show was the center of attention.

And they all lived happily ever after (except for Tchaikovsky, who never stopped crying and died of a broken heart).

THE END


End file.
